


the picture's almost perfect

by vavafroome (spaceboy_niko)



Series: twelve days of ficmas [7]
Category: Cycling RPF
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28214433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceboy_niko/pseuds/vavafroome
Summary: on the seventh day of christmas, neilson powless waits.
Relationships: Sepp Kuss/Neilson Powless
Series: twelve days of ficmas [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045978
Kudos: 5





	the picture's almost perfect

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [magliarosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magliarosa/pseuds/magliarosa). Log in to view. 



> this sepp/neilson dynamic is inspired by magliarosa's _homecoming_ which is very soft and very good and i highly recommend it
> 
> i know this isn't technically christmas but i liked this concept so here it is. rated t for swears
> 
> (title from comin' home for christmas by dolly parton)

Sepp is late.

He doesn’t know how it happened - he’d left home on time, had a full tank, and the traffic had been flowing beautifully - but he hasn’t even left Colorado when it starts to feel like the cars around him are starting to crawl.

As the highway traffic stops once again, he sighs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously. He has another day of driving ahead of him, and he hopes that he can at least make up for lost time tomorrow.

* * *

_“Come stay over for Christmas,” Neilson says to him in the airport._

_Sepp shakes his head, even though he really doesn’t want to. “I promised I’d spend it with my parents.”_

_Neilson pouts for just a second, but that well-meaning smile is back on his face quickly. “Then come stay over for New Year’s. I’ll give you your present then.”_

_“I- okay.” Sepp hasn’t gotten Neilson anything - he didn’t know if they’d see each other before their first race together, but now he feels a little guilty. He makes a mental note to find something, maybe ask his parents and friends for advice when he gets home._

_Neilson opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, but he must catch sight of the time on the departures board._

_“Shit, I gotta get to my gate. Text me when you land, we’ll figure out New Year’s then, yeah?”_

_Neilson’s smile is contagious, and Sepp returns it. “Yeah. See you then, Neils.”_

_Neilson waves as he walks away, breaking into a jog when he’s out of the bigger clusters of people, backpack bouncing as he goes._

* * *

Neilson hears his phone ding twice from the next room as he’s washing up from dinner, two nights before New Year’s Eve.

> **_Sepp:_ ** _I’m going to be late_
> 
> **_Sepp:_ ** _It’s fucking awful out there_

Neilson feels his heart sink a little. He doesn’t know what Sepp means by _fucking awful_ , hopes that it’s not dangerous and that Sepp’s not doing some dumb shit to try and make good time.

He can’t put this fear into words, doesn’t register what his hands are doing until the dial tone stops abruptly and he hears Sepp say, “Hey, Neils, everything alright?”

“How late are you going to be?” It’s cutting to the chase, Neilson knows, but he needs the answers.

Sepp inhales. “I...I don’t know yet. I think I’ll be there tomorrow, but if I have the same kind of shit luck I did today, then…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, and Neilson fills in the blank for himself.

“As long as you get here before midnight,” he jokes half-heartedly, and it thankfully makes Sepp laugh.

“I’ll definitely be there before midnight.”

Neilson asks the question he knows he’s not going to like the answer to. “Where are you now?”

He can practically hear Sepp’s eye roll of annoyance. “Somewhere in Utah, _still_. Google says I’ve got, like, ten hours left of driving to do, but it took me way too long to make it as far as I did today."

"Utah's a whole lot of nothing, Sepp, how did it take so long?"

Sepp groans, and Neilson doesn't press any further.

"Doesn't matter. Look, get some rest, drive safely tomorrow, all that." He hesitates, then adds: "Can I call you again tomorrow?"

"Yeah, 'course. I'll see you soon."

 _Hopefully tomorrow_ , Neilson thinks as Sepp hangs up.

* * *

The next morning, Sepp's heart sinks as his route is lit up in red and orange all the way to the next state border, a mass migration of cars westward.

Once he gets onto the road, he sees the eastbound lanes creeping along just as slowly as he is, and it gives him a strange sort of satisfaction.

There's construction along the way - there always is, but today it feels like it's directed at him specifically. He could get mad about it, but that would exhaust him and stress him out and he'd have to stop before even reaching Nevada, so he picks a podcast, rolls down the window a crack and looks at the sky whenever he rolls to a near-stop.

* * *

> **_Sepp:_ ** _I won’t make it to yours tonight_

Neilson is antsy - he was all prepared for Sepp to spend the night with him, he’d steeled his nerves and forced his heart back down from his throat, and all for nothing now.

He asks Sepp if he’s still coming. There’s no reply.

Sure, Sepp’s probably on his way, stuck on backroads and byways. He’s a stalwart guy on and off the bike, not one to let down his friends, and definitely not one to miss out on a party.

But there’s a tiny little doubt biting at the back of his mind. Maybe he isn’t coming - maybe Sepp’s figured out Neilson’s ruse, and he doesn’t feel the same way, and he’s going to let Neilson down easy by simply not showing up.

Neilson goes to bed early and anxious, and doesn’t hear his phone buzz, messages flashing up from Sepp.

> **_Sepp:_** _Of course I am_
> 
> **_Sepp:_** _Just trying not to drive myself to death_
> 
> **_Sepp:_** _That’d really ruin the party_

* * *

It is five to ten on New Year's Eve, and Sepp is still on the road - he's almost at the border to California, antsy, eager to get out of his fucking car and ring in the new year with Neilson.

When people make plans, God laughs, Sepp thinks as he drives out of Reno.

* * *

It is twenty past eleven on New Year's Eve, and Neilson is drunk - he's putting away drinks faster than he knows he can handle, his hands feel like they're underwater, and _Sepp isn't here yet._

He hasn't heard anything from Sepp since the night before. No _I'll_ _be there, I promise_ , no _I'm sorry to let you down_ , just a whole lot of nothing.

* * *

It is nineteen minutes to midnight, and Sepp is lost in suburban California - it feels like he's done the same block over and over, and there's nothing distinguishing in the dark, so he pulls over to regroup himself.

He taps in Neilson's address again, and realises with a sinking feeling that he'd got it wrong the first time. He's not too far - ten minutes, less if he's pushing it.

He turns back into the road, chanting _shit, shit, shit_ over and over to himself as he drives.

* * *

It is four minutes to midnight, and Neilson accepts that Sepp won't be here.

It is three minutes to midnight, and Sepp is in Neilson's backyard, asking guests if they know where their host is.

It is two minutes, then one minute to midnight when Neilson starts making his way outside again. He looks around from his back door - thirty seconds.

Sepp turns at the sound of the door opening - twenty seconds.

Neilson stares, and the countdown begins.

_Ten-_

"Holy shit," Neilson says to himself, butterflies in his stomach.

_-nine-eight-seven-_

Sepp sees Neilson, finally, and feels himself beam.

_-six-_

Neilson is out of the doorway now, making his way towards Sepp.

_-five-_

Sepp excuses himself around people, friends and families he's never met, trying not to lose sight of Neilson.

_-four-_

"You made it," Neilson says wondrously.

"I told you I would," Sepp answers as nonchalantly as he can.

_-three-_

Neilson lets his empty bottle drop to the grass,

_-two-_

takes Sepp's face in his hands,

_-one!_

and kisses him to the uproar of the clocks ticking over midnight.

It’s a gamble, Neilson knows, and the relief he feels when Sepp stretches up and kisses back, reaches over Neilson’s shoulder to rest fingertips on the back of his neck.

Neilson forgets to breathe, and breaks the kiss so he can do so.

“Your mouth tastes like shit,” Sepp remarks. “How fucking drunk are you?”

“How fucking _late_ are _you?_ ” Neilson retorts, but smiles bashfully at Sepp.

“Hey, I said I’d be here before midnight!”

Neilson can’t argue with that, and kisses him again instead.


End file.
